


Chrysalis

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pool Sex, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: "The first time Will undresses Hannibal, his entire body is wracked by shivers. The only thing keeping him from losing consciousness from the pain and the cold is the fact that Hannibal isn't responding. When Will finally manages to haul Hannibal onto the boat anchored offshore, his lungs burn with exertion and salt water. He makes it into the safety of the cabin, but can't summon the strength to pull Hannibal or himself onto the small mattress there."5 times Will undresses Hannibal + 1 time Hannibal undresses himself
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 247
Collections: ItsStillBeautiful 2020





	Chrysalis

The first time Will undresses Hannibal, his entire body is wracked by shivers. The only thing keeping him from losing consciousness from the pain and the cold is the fact that Hannibal isn't responding. When Will finally manages to haul Hannibal onto the boat anchored offshore, his lungs burn with exertion and salt water. He makes it into the safety of the cabin, but can't summon the strength to pull Hannibal or himself onto the small mattress there. His hands fumble with the clasp of Hannibal's pants. Every nerve in his fingers screams for him to just stop, but he can't. His eyes feel like he's been crying, but he can't tell if it's because he has or because they've had cold salt water thrown in them. 

Once Hannibal's clothes are off, he wastes no time tearing his own off. There's a woolen blanket on the bed when Will reaches out and grasps for anything to help them warm up. He straddles Hannibal's thighs, pressing the entire length of their bodies together to try and warm them both as quickly as possible. He pushes his face into the side of Hannibal's neck and knows for sure that he's crying this time. 

Chiyoh comes and goes the morning after they slay the dragon, bringing with her a suitcase of clothes for Will and Hannibal and a man who she says is a surgeon. He says he's a veterinarian. He stitches Hannibal up just the same. Will stands directly over his shoulder and watches every stitch. One of his hands rests over Hannibal's heart. He thinks that if it stopped beating he would probably kill the veterinarian and then himself. After he's finished, he offers to stitch up Will's face. Will declines and isn't sure why. He is sure that Hannibal will tell him when he wakes up. The veterinarian does clean looking work and doesn't ask who any of them are. Chiyoh gives Will a look that reminds him of Hannibal as their boat is pulling away. Will thinks she might kill him and that fact doesn't bother him nearly as much as it probably should. 

Once they're completely out of sight, Will finds himself completely drained. He peels his shirt off and lets himself climb back onto the small mattress next to Hannibal. Their damp skin sticks together. Will puts his ear against Hannibal's chest and listens to the slow, steady drumming until he fades in and out of fitful sleep, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, but too panicked to really rest. 

Hannibal becomes aware of himself in pieces. At first, it's the feeling of warmth down one side. Then, the overwhelming pain in most of his body. Taking stock, he knows he's been under anesthesia. He can feel the familiar unsettling fog clawing at the edges of his consciousness. The sound of another person's ragged breathing distracts him from focusing on his own body. 

"... don't know who I am anymore without you. We've made it this far and you can't," Will takes a breath to steady himself and sniffle, "you can't just leave me now. You can't. I love you, you giant, uninteresting asshole, you can't fucking do this."

Tears flow freely from Will's eyes onto Hannibal's bare chest. He doesn't move to sweep them away, doesn't dare lift his head for even a second because he can't bear the thought of not hearing the constant confirmation that Hannibal is still alive. 

Hannibal doesn't trust his voice. Instead, he lifts the arm that is lying limp on the bed behind Will and rests it on Will's waist. Will's whole chest heaves with a sob and his fingers curl into Hannibal's chest when he feels it. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Will whispers into the air. 

The words that Hannibal wants to say don't make their way out of his mouth. He can't will his vocal cords into motion no matter how he tries. Instead, he moves his other hand to link his fingers with Will's. 

Will clutches Hannibal's hand so tight that the joints of his knuckles ache. With the minimal comfort of Hannibal's hands on him, the panic lessens just enough for the exhaustion to finally win over. 

The second morning, Will wakes shortly after the sun comes up. Hannibal's eyes are open and watching him with gentle intensity when he regains consciousness. 

"Will," Hannibal says softly, testing to see if he can still speak. 

Will props himself up on his elbow, still keeping his other hand over Hannibal's heart. He tries to put the sound of every feeling he's having into saying: "Hannibal."

Hannibal understands the weight in Will's tone, though he expects not fully. He remembers waking with Will sobbing into his chest when he didn't think anyone could hear. The feeling in Hannibal's chest is something like guilt when he thinks of how he may have intruded on Will's privacy. 

"How are you feeling?" Will asks because he doesn't know what else to ask and because he is nauseous with worry. 

Hannibal smiles softly. "I have been better, but I have also been worse. This too shall pass, darling." 

"There you are," Will laughs softly and feels some of the tension in his chest unwind. 

The genuine fondness in Will's tone is unmistakable. 

~~ 

The second time Will undresses Hannibal they're somewhere in South America. Will doesn't ask and finds that not knowing bothers him a lot less than he expects. It's dark when they drive there, but Hannibal gives him directions one turn at a time down winding dirt roads until they pull up to a gate amongst the trees. The code to the gate is the date that Hannibal surrendered himself to the FBI. Hannibal smiles mischievously when Will asks for it. The smile fades quickly when Will's face twists into something that looks like pain. 

They make their way inside a decently sized villa. Will only shakes his head at the extravagance of it all. Hannibal tries to carry the bag of their clothes inside, but Will takes it from him as soon as it's in his hands. 

"The doctor said no lifting," Will reminds him, looking down at the place where he knows the gunshot wound is. 

Hannibal purses his lips, but doesn't argue. He finds himself surprisingly content to allow Will to mother him. 

"There are several bedrooms," Hannibal tells Will once they're inside. "Feel free to claim whichever strikes you."

"Which one is yours?" Will asks, taking in the opulent house that he would apparently be calling home. 

Hannibal nods toward the staircase in front of them. "First door on the left. I prefer to sleep close to the exit."

"Is the bed big enough for two?" Will asks. He's too tired to think of a more clever way to slip himself into sharing a bedroom with Hannibal. 

The look on Hannibal's face is catlike when he answers: "Of course."

"I'll stay with you then." Will's gaze dares Hannibal to challenge him. 

Hannibal leads the way up the stairs. He tries not to show his discomfort when he's walking, but Will seems to know. Hannibal's spine crawls with the heat of Will's gaze on his back. 

Their clothes are deposited on the floor as soon as Will enters the room, to be dealt with in the morning. Hannibal opens the closet and pulls two sets of pajamas from it. 

"Who puts pajamas on hangers?" Will asks, but takes them anyway. 

"How else would one keep from having wrinkled pajamas?" Hannibal asks, trying to keep his tone genuine.

Will's mouth gapes for a moment before he realizes that Hannibal is joking. The fact that Hannibal made a joke at his own expense startles Will into laughing even harder.

The sound of Will's laughter brings a new kind of warmth to Hannibal's chest. 

Hannibal manages to unbutton and remove his own shirt, but realizes with some embarrassment that he won't be able to take off his own undershirt without pulling uncomfortably at his stitches. 

"Let me," Will says, saving Hannibal from having to ask. 

Will is wearing only a pair of loose pajama pants. They were bought in Hannibal's size and they drape loosely on Will's hips, revealing just the tiniest hint of his pubic hair. When he steps forward into Hannibal's space, it takes a considerable amount of self control to keep him from brushing a knuckle over that barest hint of hair. 

Will's hands are gentle when they ease his shirt over his head. His hand drifts over Hannibal's stitches, ghosting close enough that he can feel the warmth of Will's body heat, but never making contact. Hannibal expects him to pull away, possibly put on the rest his own clothing. Will, always unpredictable, unclasps Hannibal's pants for him and watches them pool around his ankles. He offers an arm to help Hannibal balance when he steps out of them. Hannibal takes it, even though he's certain he doesn't need it.

It takes Hannibal a moment to dare look at Will's face. He knows that Will has seen him, knows him more intimately than any amount of nudity could allow, but still finds his heart racing at the thought of Will seeing his naked body. Next to Will, he is reminded that he isn't a young man anymore. His body is soft in places that once had hard edges. Muscles have deteriorated from lack of use in confinement. 

"Hannibal," Will's voice interrupts his spiraling thoughts. "You're thinking very loudly." 

Hannibal knows from Will's tone that he has once again been thoroughly seen. It deepens the embarrassment twisting in his gut. 

"Apologies," Hannibal says because he isn't sure what else to say. 

"Don't," Will answers. "Let's get to bed."

Will helps Hannibal into his pants with the same gentle hands. They hug his hips tightly and he tries not to think about what that means. It's easier to forget when Will nudges him towards the bed with a hand on his lower back. 

The bed is nearly four times the size of their cot on the boat. Hannibal can't help but be disappointed that they won't be spending every night plastered together. His disappointment doesn't last. Once the light is off, Will slides under the blanket with him and curls against his uninjured side just as close as they had been on the boat. 

Hannibal doesn't wear undershirts after that. Will hardly wears shirts at all. Some days, when Will is swimming and Hannibal is reading or sketching, he likes to fantasize about what they might look like to an outsider. Will's skin has bronzed nicely under the sun. He may not be in his twenties, but he is certainly very obviously younger than Hannibal is. He tries to enjoy the thoughts when they come, rather than dwell on the shortcomings of his own body. 

At night, Will clings as tightly to Hannibal as he did when they went over the cliff. Often, he dreams that they're still falling and wakes up with his nails digging into Hannibal's skin. Secretly, Hannibal appreciates these nights for the marks they leave on him the day after. 

~~

When Will wakes in the middle of the night to the feeling of Hannibal's skin burning up, he moves without thinking. He shakes Hannibal's shoulder, calls his name, turns the lights on, but can't get more of a response than a soft groan and a fluttering of his eyelids. Will's heart races while he thinks of how to bring down Hannibal's fever without calling an ambulance. He isn't sure he even can call an ambulance. He's relatively sure that 911 isn't the emergency number in whatever country they're in, doesn't know if they even have ambulance service as far away from major cities as they are. 

He thinks about getting sick as a child. When the fever wouldn't break, his father would bring him outside into the chilly nighttime air and let the wind blow the heat off of him. The air outside is thick with heat even at night, but he thinks a cool bath should work. 

He peels Hannibal out of his pajama pants and drags him, with two hands under his arms, into the master bathroom. It takes all of Will's strength to haul Hannibal's limp body into the shower. He strips his own pants off, kicking them across the bathroom. They might have landed in the toilet for all he cares in the moment. 

The water is cold. It reminds Will of taking the plunge at the bottom of the bluffs. He sits behind Hannibal with both arms wrapped around his chest, holding him upright. He's almost shivering, but the water seems to be cooling Hannibal's burning skin. 

"Come on, Hannibal," Will pleads. "Don't you dare do this to me again. We've made it so far, you can't just fucking do this."

Hannibal's face turns and he presses his forehead into the side of Will's neck. 

"I am sorry," he says slowly. 

"Fuck," Will breathes. "Fucking…. Fuck, Hannibal." 

Hannibal tries to keep himself focused. He doesn't want Will to worry about him and, even more, doesn't want to be incapacitated. "Pink pills. Under the sink."

Will nods. "Let's get you out of here and then you're going to take those."

The water shuts off and Will slides out from behind Hannibal. Hannibal's legs are shaky, but they support him with some help from Will's outstretched arms. Will dries him carefully, patting gently around the nearly-healed stitches. 

"Those need to come out," Hannibal says softly. 

Will nods. "One crisis at a time, please."

Hannibal smiles and allows himself to be led, fully nude, back to bed. When Will returns from the bathroom with a glass of water and two pills, Hannibal forgets that he's supposed to be pretending that they don't have whatever feelings they have for each other. He can't think of the reason why he thinks he shouldn't touch Will intimately and rests his cheek against Will's stomach. The raised edge of Will's scar is smooth against Hannibal's growing stubble. Hannibal can feel the muscles tense. He wants to mouth at the scar, to feel the way the flesh healed differently. Will puts the pills in his mouth for him, but lets him maneuver the cup to his lips by himself. He's almost disappointed by it, except that while he's swallowing the water down, Will is petting through his damp hair. 

"Every eight hours, right?" Will asks when he's up again putting out the light. 

"Yes, for a week." Hannibal replies. 

Will nods and climbs into the bed with him. Their damp skin sticks together and it reminds him of when he pulled Hannibal out of the water onto the boat. At the thought, he drapes one leg over Hannibal's hip, pressing as close as he possibly can. 

Sleep never truly comes for Hannibal. His eyes drift closed every now and then only for him to be sharply awakened by a stab of pain in his side or a sudden bout of nausea. Instead, he commits to memory the feeling of Will's naked body curled against him. 

~~

During their waking hours, they find ways to keep themselves busy separately. Will checks in every 8 hours at the very least, until Hannibal is done taking the antibiotics. 

"I miss the stream," Will admits one evening over dinner. 

Hannibal looks up from the roast boar he's carving. "There is a river that runs through the property line. Be aware, though, that the fish here tend to have teeth." 

"Most fish have teeth," Will says, eyebrows pinched together. 

A smile crosses Hannibal's face. "True enough. Do be careful."

The river is easy enough for Will to find. Barely half a mile from their home. Within a week, there have been fishing poles and supplies for lures delivered to the gate along with their groceries. 

It's another two weeks before he learns what Hannibal meant by 'teeth'. The fish he reels in has sharp bottom teeth that protrude at least two inches. He's grateful for the metal stringer and thick gloves while he's hauling it out of the river. 

"Teeth," Will says when he deposits the fish unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. 

Hannibal cocks his head at the large fish that's been dumped on his counter. "I'm not sure I recommend eating the fish that come from the river," he tells Will. 

"I don't want to eat it." Will says. "I just needed you to see it so that I know it really happened." 

Hannibal guts and cleans the fish anyway. He'll offer it to the delivery man the next time he's dropping something off with an explanation about how they tried it and didn't particularly like it, but don't want all the meat to go to waste. 

The fangs he saves and leaves out in Will's shed with his flies. When Will finds them days later, he can't help but smile.

That night when they're getting ready to retire to bed for the evening, Will stops halfway through putting on his pajamas to help Hannibal undress instead. He doesn't say anything, only nudges Hannibal's hands out of the way and replaces them with his own. 

It's strikingly intimate, being undressed this way. Logically, Hannibal knows that Will has undressed him before. This time, though, he's doing only what he wants to. There is no emergency or injury forcing this on him, this is Will acting on desire. It's intoxicating for Hannibal to see Will take what he wants. He's so close that Hannibal can smell him. It's a different scent now. No more encephalitis sweetness or cheap cologne. There's only the musky scent of Will's sweat, which now bears some similarity to his own. 

With Hannibal's shirt off, Will's hands rest on the soft curves of his hips, taking a moment to just appreciate how far they've gone for each other. He kisses Hannibal and expects the moment to be profound. Instead, it simply happens. Their mouths meet gently. Hannibal kisses gently even though Will can feel the goosebumps rippling over his body. When they do finally part, Hannibal's face is flushed and he looks blissfully content. Will expects to feel some amount of change in himself, having considered himself straight for his entire life. Later, when he thinks about this exact moment, he'll think about the moment in Hannibal's kitchen when Hannibal reached out for him. He'll think about how in that moment he felt his entire being shift just slightly with Hannibal's movements. After that, when he thinks of their first kiss, he thinks of Hannibal's kitchen in Baltimore and the feeling of a knife carving him open.

For Hannibal, the moment that Will's lips meet his is every bit the dramatic shift in his being, but it isn't expected. He had been content in the platonic physicality of their relationship, had almost completely disregarded the idea that Will might have any romantic feelings for him. When Will closes the distance and decides to initiate that contact, it changes the way Hannibal is able to envision their future. 

They part without talking about it and curl against each other in their usual positions in bed. 

~~

During a delivery, the driver mentions that their neighborhood dog has just had puppies and Hannibal knows a sign from God when he sees one. The next delivery they get is a pair of skinny, brown puppies and enough flea treatments to last their entire lives. In a way, they remind Hannibal of the worst parts of his own childhood. He's surprised by how little that bothers him. 

The look on Will's face when Hannibal calls him in from the pool makes his stomach tighten. Hannibal thinks it might be the first time that he's seen Will truly, genuinely happy. Will scoops up a squirming, squealing pup in each hand and lets them lick his face without the slightest consideration for where their mouths have been. Hannibal thinks this is what has been missing. He fell in love with Will in his uncivilized, dirt-under-his-nails, dog-hair-on-everything, natural state. Their time together has been too sterile. 

"Their collars and leashes are on the way. It was a bit of an impulsive decision that led to their arrival," Hannibal admits. 

Will only smiles. He hugs the puppies just a little closer to himself. "They're perfect. What should we call them?"

"They're yours," Hannibal tells him with a slight shrug.

Will bathes the puppies outside in their flea medicated shampoo. Hannibal stays because Will hasn't put any clothes on from when he was swimming in the nude and he's a man who appreciates art at every opportunity. During the course of their bath, Hannibal learns that both puppies are female and that their names are Apple and Beans. 

The look on Hannibal's face when Will tells him almost sends him into a fit of laughter. He considers offering again to let Hannibal pick, but gets distracted when he loses his grip on Apple and she takes off running. Hannibal doesn't think about the very expensive silk shirt he's wearing when he leans down and scoops her up. The only thing his brain can process in the moment is the look of terror on Will's face. Hannibal scolds her in a soft voice for scaring her daddy and calls her by her name while he does it. 

It's a ridiculous sight. Hannibal in his soaking wet silk shirt giving a wriggling puppy a lecture, but it's so very human. For the first time, Hannibal looks like Will might be rubbing off on him. Will kisses the side of Hannibal's mouth when he retrieves her. It's quick and gentle, so casual that someone watching might think they had been married for years. 

"Naughty girl," Will tells Apple as he's dumping water over her head. "You got your Papa's nice shirt all wet." 

Once the puppies are as dry as they seem to be getting, Will relocates them to a spare, unused bathroom while he cleans himself up. Along the way, he finds Hannibal still wearing his damp shirt and tugs him along to the master bath to join him. 

Hannibal's hands rest gently over Will's bare hips while Will carefully unbuttons his shirt. His eyes trace the lines forming just at the edges of Will's eyes. Will nudges his pants down to his thighs, then lets them pool on the floor in a wrinkled heap. Hannibal steps forward into Will's space and leaves them there on the floor to follow Will into the shower. 

At first, Will washes himself. He tossed his head back into the stream of water and closes his eyes, letting Hannibal just look at him. Hannibal reaches out for Will's hip, wrapping his palm around it so that his thumb can brush over the scar across his stomach. 

"I thought you might kiss me then, you know?" Will says. 

When Hannibal looks up, Will's eyes are looking straight through to his soul. He swallows thickly. "Would it have changed anything?"

"I don't think we'd be here," Will answers honestly. "Broken teacups and all that." 

"I would apologize-"

"Don't," Will interrupts. "If you start now you won't ever stop. Don't be sorry."

Hannibal shifts his hand so his palm covers most of Will's stomach. He thinks about falling to his knees and worshipping Will there in the shower. His own cock is starting to fatten slowly between his thighs at the thought. 

"Turn around," Will finally says.

All at once, Hannibal is reminded of the large brand on his back. He knows, on some level, that Will has seen it, but it remains a source of discomfort for him. He turns around anyway, heart pounding while he waits for Will's reaction. 

Will pumps some shampoo into his hands, then starts to lather Hannibal's hair. A groan is pulled from Hannibal's throat at the feeling. It tingles across his scalp everywhere that Will touches and down his spine. Once the shampoo is out of Hannibal's hair, he turns to face Will again, tucking his face into the side of Will's neck. Will lets him and keeps one hand on the back of his head. He doesn't speak, too scared to move the wrong way and have Will pulling away from him. 

~~

Hannibal finds Will, as he does most days, in the pool. His nude body glides effortlessly through the water now. The way he favors one shoulder would be invisible to anyone else. Will doesn't look up from the water when Hannibal starts to peel the layers of his suit off. Nor does he pause when Hannibal himself slides into the shallow end of the pool. 

Will finally does stop when his hand grasps Hannibal's bicep instead of the concrete edge of the pool. He lets his feet hit the bottom, just on the edge of too close to Hannibal. 

"I thought I might join you," Hannibal murmurs. 

Will pulls himself in close, kissing the edge of Hannibal's temple. "It only works if you're swimming. Lounging won't get any strength back." 

"You presume me here to simply lounge?" One of Hannibal's hands wraps around Will's waist. 

Will presses his body all the way along Hannibal's, keeping his lips against his face. "What then?" 

The laugh Will earns from Hannibal vibrates against his skin. "That depends," Hannibal purrs, "are you delighting or tolerating?" 

"You tell me," Will says with a slight roll of his hips. 

Under the cool water, Hannibal feels the press of Will's unmistakably hard cock against him. The water eases the burden when he lifts Will off of his feet. Toned legs wrap around his waist, keeping their bodies close. They watch each other's faces, both seemingly waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under their feet. 

Will loses his patience first. He kisses and bites at Hannibal's lips, burying his fingers at the back of Hannibal's scalp. Hannibal shifts their weight and lines himself up with Will's entrance while they kiss. He still halfway expects to have this taken away from him, so he pauses. Will growls in the back of his throat and rolls his hips, forcing just the tip of Hannibal's length inside him. 

It's the end of Hannibal's self control, feeling Will's tight heat around him. He yanks Will the rest of the way down onto him in one motion, savoring the way Will's back arches away, leaving his neck exposed. Will's nails scratch at his scalp and shoulders with every roll of their hips, but the stinging pain of it only spurs Hannibal on. He bites and sucks deep marks around Will's collarbones, aiming to leave one for every time he dreamed of doing this since they met. By the time Will is tensing in his arms, he's lost count of the marks. They bleed together and overlap into an abstract mess of red and purple. 

Will hides his face in Hannibal's neck when he comes shaking apart in his arms. Hannibal follows not long after, wrapping both arms around Will's back to keep him close. They stay together in the water, clinging like they did after the fall, until their breathing has calmed. 

"Come join me for lunch?" Hannibal asks, almost sounding unsure. 

Will kisses his cheek. "What are we having?" 

Hannibal's face breaks into a broad smile. "I prepared a pasta salad this morning, since you should be eating more carbs if you're going to be swimming so much."

"Will that be okay on your stomach?" Will asks with genuine concern. 

"My doctor tells me that I should be trying to ease myself back to my usual diet," Hannibal answers with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Will sighs, unwrapping himself from around Hannibal's body. "You want to go hunting." 


End file.
